


Worth a wound

by hallo catfish (ryuujitsu)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuujitsu/pseuds/hallo%20catfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenny wakes to breakfast in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth a wound

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted at lizardladylove (where it was mistakenly called a drabble, oops), which is an awesome comm.

Jenny slept fitfully, slipping in and out of dreams. She ran down the network of dark sewers, sometimes pursued, sometimes in pursuit. Just once she thought she heard her brother Ned speaking to her—“Drink up, Jenny, there’s a love, have you back on your feet in no time. Oh, _good_ girl.” A beautifully cold hand at her neck, a cup at her lips—she drank and tumbled and resumed the chase.

 

Some hours later, she woke with a start, and found herself lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. It was papered a rich dark red—a colour she thought she ought to recognise but could not quite place.

 

The curtains through which the morning light was currently filtering, however, she knew well. For a year and sixmonth now, she had arrived at eight o’clock sharp each morning to part them with sunny greetings. Jenny began to understand that something had gone wrong—she was not at all where she ought to be.

 

There was general clattering and then a knock; Jenny looked away from the curtains and saw her ladyship standing in the doorway. 

 

“Now, don’t get up, Jenny,” Vastra said.

 

“Merciful heaven,” said Jenny, for her ladyship was carrying a tea tray. “Ma’am!”

 

“No, Jenny!” said Vastra. “Stay where you are.”

 

She came toward Jenny with slow, measured steps—for the tray was large, and heavily laden, and still rattling—and set it down on the bed beside her. 

 

“There!” she said, with false cheer. “A proper human breakfast:  eggs and toast and kippers, and haddock and kedgeree—and beef broth—which you must drink, my dear, every last drop! I am told it will do you good. And apples—and jelly, which Dorian has made specially for you. He says it is a great favourite, among humans. Oh, and tea—of course tea! with milk and sugar. Oh,” she said, noticing Jenny’s wide-eyed silence, “you do not like it.”

 

“Oh, no, ma’am,” Jenny was quick to reassure her. “It is only—well, ma’am, I would not call this breakfast, but a feast!”

 

“Eat what you can,” said Vastra, pressing the necessary utensils into Jenny’s hands, “and then eat a little more.”

 

A sudden weakness seemed to have come over her. With some effort Jenny lifted knife and fork and tucked in, and tried not to take excessive notice of how keenly and eagerly her ladyship followed her every movement.

 

“How do you feel?” Vastra said.

 

“To be honest, ma’am,” Jenny said between mouthfuls of egg and toast, “I feel proper flummoxed. Not that it isn’t nice—but what’s the occasion? Have I done something?”

 

“Done something?” said her ladyship. “Done something—yes, Jenny, I am sorry to say you have. An execrably stupid something. And I find I am forever in your debt, fool that you are!” She looked away. “A deadly toxin that would have destroyed me and all my sisters evidently serves only to make your species ill for days. But I see you don’t remember, as _he_ said you might not.” 

 

“He?” said Jenny.

 

“The doctor,” said Vastra, her tone and timbre transforming ‘doctor’ into an occupation both weighty and marvelous. “I summoned him, and he came.”

 

“How many days, ma’am?” Jenny asked, dreading the answer.

 

“A fortnight, I should think,” said her ladyship. “You burned some days and lay cold and still as death on others. For a time we were not sure—well—it does not do to dwell on what is past. More broth, Jenny.” 

 

Her hand was wonderfully cool against Jenny’s cheek as she brought the bowl to Jenny’s lips, but bowl and hand, Jenny noted, were trembling.

 

“Oh, my dear, I am sorry,” Vastra said, as broth splashed and dripped onto the coverlet. “You had better do it yourself.”

 

“Ma’am,” Jenny said, much moved, but Vastra shook her head.

 

“The house is in disarray,” her ladyship said. “I am afraid we had to dynamite the blue room.”

 

“Very good, ma’am,” said Jenny, taking it in stride. “Never much liked the paper there anyway.”


End file.
